Whether I have to beg or steal, I need to go.

I was thinking to myself today of the last time. In 2005, as I sat in the stone circle with my friends on the last evening of the festival, I asked myself the question ‘Did you you have a good time?’. And the answer was a resounding yes. I’m been made tentless, I was soaked, I’d been in the same clothes for 4 days and I didn’t give a fuck. I thought to myself today, I don’t want to be watching it on the tele, kicking myself in the head for not struggling to get there. I’ll be sick.

I used to think it’d be a lovely idea to go every year, (touch wood) hopefully with a family in later days, taking them along and just going Glastonbury every year. That’s a pipe dream but I do think I’d like to go as much as I can. I’m sure I’ll miss years, but I love the concept so much.

Another thing is (and this is quite horrible for some people, not me) that I have the wristbands from 2004 and 2005 still on my wrist. They’ve been with me ages now, some guy when I was in Morocco even asked to take one from me (he was never gonna get it and they’re metal clapsed anyway). Still, they shower with me, they wash with me, I don’t think it’s filthy. I have a lot of other sub-teenage crap on my wrist anyway so it fits. Anywho, it’s like having a reminder, a tattoo, without the expense, pain or regret. I can just cut them off if I want. But they have to return, another must be added, this is a contract almost. It’s essential to my mental health (for the next year) that I go.

But with Glastonbury, I don’t know what it is exactly. Sure it’s commercialised now or whatever and it’s not hippies anymore but there are so many amazing things going for it. I’ve never seen one bit of violence, everyone is nice and friendly and there’s so much to do other than watching music. It inspires me every time I’m there. It’s like a village erects itself from nowhere and vanishes just as quickly as it arrived. A ghost village. It’s just an experience. It’s an institution. It may not be what it used to be (so I’m repeatedly told), but what it is now is pretty fucking amazing and exhilarating nonetheless.devastation

Last time, my friends and I were subjected to the awful flooding, like this picture on the right. I woke up in the morning to shouting outside, feeling a bit wet and opened my eyes just in time to see my phone floating in water. Then I opened my tent door – big mistake – water came flooding in and as I frantically grabbed my things, I laughed as I saw my mate Softlad, floating on his airbed inside his tent.

We were slap bang in the middle of this flooding and later, our tents became completely submerged in water. Even funnier, the septic tank in the nearby toilets burst too, thus contaminating every thing that we left behind.

After listening to the first hour of the festival on Radio 1, while drying off in our car, we rocked out and had the best fucking time. We slept in the Acoustic stage (essentially a massive marquee) with the wind whipping in, wrapped sleeping in those metal blankets they give to shock victims. It was hilarious. My next day was my birthday and I quickly realised that upon waking up, you had to get plastered. It was the only way to ensure you didn’t become miserable at your plight.

But that’s Glastonbury. You don’t care. You muck in, you get wasted, and as you watch the sun come up over the stone circle on the last night, you’re smiling your head off having a brilliant time.

I remember a moment, in 2004 (see pix below), as Supergrass played on the main stage. The rain came pouring down, really hard, and in the middle of the storm, with a wet j and 9% pear cider in my hand the sun came out magnificently, creating a beautiful rainbow. Then, if memory serves me right, I believe the band noticed and played ‘Sun Hits The Sky‘. It’s moments like these that make it. When everything comes together, connected, perfectly.

I’m there. I don’t care how I have to get there, I will try my hardest. I’ve just gotta hope and pray I get a ticket. I was debating before, but I am a yes man and I will be there (touch wood!)

J.

N.B. Must post more but my Internet connection’s fucked at the moment.

pix below: the sun breaks through at Glastonbury…

as it chucks it down, the sun breaks through

chuckin’ it down

wonderful, wonderful Glastonbury mud

What is it about this time of year?

First you get the newspapers regaling you in advance about just how miserable everyone will be for the next month or so. Then they tell you half the people are fine as none of them are at blooming work anyway – at least not until January 8 apparently. They can’t even make up their minds, and I think that’s a problem for a lot of people now.

It’s all this end of year stuff too. It’s just a time that people (at least those who don’t fret about their direction or definition every single day of their so far meaningless lives) take stock, all because that little number at the end of the date clicks over, we reset back to the all powerful 01 of 01, and it suddenly seems to make people go crazy for a few weeks. New start and all that.

Like New Years Resolutions, I just find it a bit bizarre y’know? Why not change during the year? Why not change make these changes on a Thursday in November. Is it just this period of assessment that makes us do this? Or just the symbolism of that last digit clicking over?

It’s more likely to happen and be something stuck to if it happened at some point during the year, without everyone repeatedly asking how’s it going. Maybe sub-consciously, the person knows that most resolutions fail and that’s part of it all. Or maybe they’re just determined, I don’t know, I just suppose I don’t think everyone (or anyone?) is actually going to keep it up.

So what about me, did I make one? I tried to think of one (fucking hypocrite). I got a text at 2am on the (all powerful) 01 of 01 from a friend saying ‘here’s mine, what’s yours?’. So I thought and typed out ‘I’m going to be productive‘. Next morning though, when I was deleting old messages on the phone I saw that in my drunken state I’d actually typed ‘I’m going un be productive‘. Now, while that may not be grammatically accurate, I think it’s the kiss of death to that thought process already.

Incidentally, the friend wanted to not swear so much this year. I suppose that’s pretty easy really. I’m disproved immediately. I suppose the only conclusion I can come to, is pick something that doesn’t cost money at least. Or just go to the fucking gym and use the membership and don’t lose all the money you accumulate from working a job. (Warning: sweeping generalisation alert…) Especially when quite a lot of you hate your jobs anyway and wouldn’t be there if you didn’t need the cash.

One day, maybe I’ll be able to say: “This year, my resoulution is to be a man of leisure’. That’d be nice.

x, J.

i have a dream…

January 2, 2007

Let us not wallow in the valley of despair, I say to you today, my friends.

And so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in my head.

red zebra

I have a dream that one day a group will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: “i see ma’ bebe, well she’s so fine.”

I have a dream that one day on the dancefloor of London town, the offspring of band members and groupies will be able to sit down together at the table of red zebra.
I have a dream that one day even the state of Essex, a state sweltering with the heat of binge drinking, sweltering with the heat of cheap sex, will be transformed into an oasis of beautiful music and animal noises.

I have a dream that my three little monkeys will one day appear on a stage where they will not be judged by the smell of their bodies but by the content of their songs.

I have a dream today…  an evening with red zebra + friends.

This is our hope, and this is our faith that I go back to the underworld with.

red zebra. x.

P.S. not that I’m trying to devalue what ol’ MLK was saying.